


(make our hearts the only sound) throw my fears out to the ground

by your typical rockstar (tamquamm)



Category: Men's Hockey RPF
Genre: D/s elements, Emotional Outlet Sex, Folks. It's Dark Times (TM), Insert that one GIF of angry Kyle chewing gum from the box, M/M, Mostly Pwp, Reaction
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-18
Updated: 2019-11-18
Packaged: 2021-02-08 02:21:48
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,143
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21468484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tamquamm/pseuds/your%20typical%20rockstar
Summary: “I feel like shit so if you don’t want it like that, tell me now.”William rolls his eyes, gets to work tugging at his tie. It’s a clear enough sign, but he says it anyway.“I know, and that’s why I’m still here.”
Relationships: Kyle Dubas/William Nylander
Comments: 10
Kudos: 110





	(make our hearts the only sound) throw my fears out to the ground

**Author's Note:**

> Okay first [here](https://twitter.com/TheFlintor/status/1195895025160335361)'s the GIF because I am trash and he is literally so attractive when he's mad, sorry not fucking sorry! I put that bad boy on replay on screen two the entire time I wrote this so just know that, ok.
>
>> [pic.twitter.com/AxUWdO175D](https://t.co/AxUWdO175D)
>> 
>> — Flintor (@TheFlintor) [November 17, 2019](https://twitter.com/TheFlintor/status/1195895025160335361?ref_src=twsrc%5Etfw)
> 
> -  
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It’s a tough fucking loss, so forgive William if he shoves his AirPods in his ears and doesn’t want to talk to anyone. Forgive him if he blasts his secret too-depressing playlist of “I hate the world” kinda songs, volume up way too high but somehow still not enough to drown out everything else. 

It’s not even like he personally had a terrible game or anything major to beat himself up about. Nothing even close to shit he’s pulled before. But hockey’s a team sport and a loss like that really fucking hurts.

Auston sits next to him on the bus back to the hotel but he’s got his own music playing, doesn’t bug him. He appreciates it.

He’s still got Khalid singing in his ear when they get back, when he’s stepping off the bus and trudging through the lobby. When he feels a hand grab his arm and tug him out of the line of his teammates booking it for the elevators.

“Nylander,” he hears, just as he’s pulling his pods out to go off on whoever decided to fuck with him today. He stops himself, just barely, when he recognizes who it is.

Kyle levels him with a look, mostly neutral. But William knows better. “I want to talk about something,” Kyle says, an explanation as plain as any. It’s kind of weak, and normally William would tell him so, since Kyle is the one with more to lose here and William tends to worry, but. He feels so exhausted, sees it mirrored in Kyle, and decidedly lets it go.

He sees Kappy give him a look — concerned? Worried? Judging? Whatever, doesn’t matter — in the corner of his eye. He ignores it, not in the mood. 

“Fine,” William nods Kyle toward the bar, just off the lobby. “Let’s talk.”

~

They don't actually talk. Not at the bar anyway. Kyle orders a whiskey on the rocks and William matches him, just because he doesn’t really want to think about it right now. Kyle charges both to his own room and they drink in silence. It’s gentlemanly sips at first, until William finally breaks and skulls the damn thing, ready to move this along. 

He doesn’t really wait for Kyle to match him, starts getting up and collecting himself as Kyle catches up. He drinks it slower but still in one fell gulp, adam’s apple bobbing where William can watch it impatiently. 

“Let’s go then,” William says, pointed, the second that Kyle sets his empty glass down.

“Lead the way,” Kyle wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. He lets William take them upstairs.

~

“I feel like shit so if you don’t want it like that, tell me now.”

William rolls his eyes, gets to work tugging at his tie. It’s a clear enough sign, but he says it, anyway. “I know, and that’s why I’m still here.”

“I’m serious, Will,” Kyle reiterates, hands still in the pockets of his slacks, frozen in his spot. “I’m not entirely sure this is a great idea, but—”

“Don’t worry about me, worry about yourself,” William cuts him off as he drops his tie to the ground, starts shrugging off his suit jacket. “I feel like shit, too, in case you were wondering. So if you’d be so kind as to fuck that out of me…”

Kyle swallows, lets the quiet linger, save for the ruffling of William continuing to strip. “Alright,” he says on an exhale. “If you want to stop, you tell me.”

“If I want to stop, I’ll make sure we stop,” William huffs, half annoyed but still half an assurance. “That good enough for you?”

Kyle makes a face, but nods. “That’s good enough for me.”

William stops then, paused shirtless but still in his slacks and socks. He looks Kyle up and down, then raises a brow at him. “Okay, well. Catch up.”

“I will when I want to,” Kyle argues back, even as he starts to shrug off his coat. He loosens his tie until he can pull it over his head, undoes the top few buttons. He rolls his sleeves up, but stops there, even as William toes off his socks, finally down to his boxers.

William opens his mouth but Kyle stops him. “Get on the bed.”

It’s visual, the change in William when he realizes the change in Kyle. He perks up, stands a little straighter. Gravitates into his energy, in a way. He follows orders, perches himself on the edge of the bed. Crosses his ankles and folds his hands in his lap.

He looks up at Kyle, patient. Awaiting his next command. 

But Kyle doesn’t say anything right away. He stays where he is, doesn’t move. Simply observes, takes his time taking in his fair fill of the image of William, waiting just for him. Sitting there pretty and still, being impeccably good, just for Kyle to stare at. Kyle thinks that William is too good for him sometimes, times like now, but he tries not to focus on that when he figures he should be savoring every moment instead.

“Fuck,” he lets slip, after he’s had his time. He doesn’t hesitate after that, gets up in William’s space, kneeing his legs apart so he can stand between them. It’s instinct, really, when he snatches William’s cheeks in his hands and leans down to kiss him, desperate and rough and probably with too much teeth, but just what he needs. 

William is pliable in his hands, easy to angle himself wherever Kyle directs him. But he isn’t completely putty, not yet at least. He’s still William, and that means he gives back whatever he takes, pushes back and gets his own bit of bite into it. Challenges Kyle, in a way, but encourages him more than anything,

“Ky,” William says, breathy, when he manages to pull away. He’s panting to catch his breath, lips wet and red and swollen. Kyle can barely process it, properly overwhelmed. 

“Kyle,” William repeats, and that’s when Kyle snaps out of the trance, snaps back into focus on the task at hand. 

“Mm,” Kyle drags his thumb over William’s cheek, down to his lips where he traces the plushest point, pauses to apply pressure over the centermost point. William is easy, watches him but lets him nonetheless. Eventually, Kyle pulls away, swipes the finger over William’s lips once more, then back to his side.

“Come on,” William murmurs, “you gonna wreck me?”

Kyle tuts, but he can’t help but laugh a little. He leans back in and pecks William on the lips, chaste. “I’ll wreck you when I’m ready.”

“Be ready faster,” William quips. It’s light and it’s familiar and for a second, Kyle forgets everything that’s been weighing on him all night.

But it’s just for a second.

He runs a hand through William’s hair, fond. William leans into it easy, perfect for him. But when Kyle gets to his nape, he twists a tight grip at the hair at the base of his scalp. “You’ll take what I give you, whenever I decide to give it to you.”

William swallows, but the hint of a grin doesn’t leave his face. “Yes, sir.”

_ Shit. _

Kyle tries to keep it under control, tries to suppress the shiver down his spine. He isn’t sure how successful he is, but it’s a moot point. Deep down he knows that William can tell what he does to him, that William _ knows _ exactly what he does to him.

He yanks William’s head back, but pushes him back just as quickly, watches him fall back into the bed. 

“I want to watch you open yourself up,” is all he says, already crossing the room to where his suitcase is set up, top flipped open. He doesn’t rummage too much, knows exactly where it is.

Once he finds the lube, he tosses the tube to William, who isn’t expecting it but still manages to catch it anyway. That’s the athlete in him, and Kyle is quietly still impressed, even if he won’t let William know it. 

It doesn’t matter because William is already on it, thumbing open the cap and squeezing the liquid onto his fingers. He rubs his fingers together a couple times, perfunctory, to warm it up a little. It probably doesn’t help much, but he’s clearly rushing. Kyle doesn’t stop him, though, allows it to play out.

It’s the right choice because in his haste, William goes straight for two fingers, zero hesitation. He teases at his hole first, just for a second, just long enough to meet Kyle’s eye and stare him down as he presses into himself. 

Kyle holds his breath. That _ fucker. _

“You can touch yourself, you know,” William says apropos of nothing, already two knuckles deep like it’s absolutely nothing at all. He tips his chin down as he says it, blinks at Kyle though his lashes.

“Thanks,” Kyle scoffs. “Wouldn’t have thought of it,” dry.

William grins, more than immune to Kyle’s attitude, perhaps even fueled by it. “Good, happy to help,” and with that, he adds in the third, completely nonchalant. “Catch up,” he echoes from before, sing-songy now.

“You’re such a brat,” Kyle says, even as his hands drift to his belt buckle. He’s quick and efficient in undoing it, pulling it through the loops and rolling it nicely so he can set it on the table. William watches him do it, glances at his own belt thrown on top of the heap of his clothes on the floor. Kyle gives him a pointed look in reply, but doesn’t pause in thumbing open his slacks and getting his palm down the front of his boxers.

“There we go,” William approves, watches the movement of Kyle’s hand under fabric, watches him coax himself hard. William knows his part, knows his role, so he gets on with the show. He lets his head fall back, lets his hair fall with it, already messy and loosened out of his postgame styling gel. Lets himself lose himself in it, lets himself get loud as he goes at it. 

“Slow down,” Kyle says, voice already getting rough.

William doesn’t look up but he does slow down, although maybe goes a little bit harder, aims a little bit better.

Gets a little bit louder.

“Mmm fuck,” William groans, fingers shoved in as deep as they’ll go, wrist straining. “Come on, come on, I’m ready.”

“Patience,” Kyle murmurs. He gives himself a couple more strokes then, mostly satisfied, starts tugging his shirt up over his head, doesn’t even bother with the rest of the buttons. He lets his slacks fall from his hips, collecting at his ankles. Unlike William, he drapes his shirt over the back of the desk chair, kicks his slacks up so he can catch them and do the same. There’s a wet spot from precome darkening at the front of his boxers, but he leaves them on for now.

“Now?” William whines at him, spreading his knees further as he starts scissoring his fingers, teasing. 

Kyle shrugs. “Fine.” He starts making toward the bed, toward William. “Turn over,” he demands, goes for firm.

Despite all his pushiness, William _ still _ goes easy for him, liquidly moves until he’s ass up, chest pressed against the sheets. It’s elegant almost, well-practiced more likely, but beautiful all the same. Beautiful just for Kyle. 

“Perfect,” is all Kyle offers up instead. It’s soft, but he hears William keen, choked back at the end. He climbs up, kneels behind William and presses his still-clothed erection right against William’s ass. Runs a hand over the grooves of William’s spine, back up again. William shivers beneath his touch, and Kyle only presses harder into his skin.

“Come on,” William says again, but it’s quiet now. Less demanding, near begging. And _ that, _ well. Kyle is weak. 

He tugs his boxers off, doesn’t mind the loud snap of the elastic when it slips out of his hands, but already far enough off that he can kick them to the floor. William squirms at the noise, knows what comes next, knows it’s so close, nearly there. 

He feels the brush of Kyle’s cock between his ass cheeks, hot and wet and already getting him good and messy. William arches even further, maybe on purpose, maybe just in want, but that’s whatever when Kyle’s sliding his cock against him, teasing.

“Give it to me,” William urges, ready to break with all patience draining straight out of him. He feels himself twitch, eager, against Kyle’s hot flesh. 

“There we go,” Kyle hums when he feels it. “God you want it so bad, huh?”

“_ Please, _” William agrees, desperate.

Kyle grips tight around William’s hip with one hand, guides his cock with the other. He presses the head in with a sigh, feels William inhale and exhale, labored, beneath him. It’s overwhelming, and Kyle even forgets to breathe for a minute. 

But the pace. William’s the one who’s been rushing here and well, Kyle isn’t reckless but it’s time he finally matched.

“Fuck, fuck,” William pants from under him, but presses back into it all the same. “Come on, babe, come on.”

It’s easy to start to lose himself in it, especially when William begs for it so well. It’s easy to grip tighter, without worrying about leaving bruises, because William asks for them, craves them. It’s easier to take what he needs when William so easily lays it out and makes it easy for him, willingly giving it away like it’s all he wants to do.

God, he’s so good to him.

The thought charges Kyle up even more. Encourages him to take full advantage, to take everything offered and leave not anything behind. He doesn’t have to hold back, doesn’t have to _ think _, not more than the bare instinctual minimum. It lets him clear his head, lets him clear it all away. 

William groans on one particular thrust, accidentally angled right over his prostate. It cues Kyle in, prompts him to change it up, to take it to the next level. He slides his hands up William’s sides, gets a hold on William’s forearms, yanks them until the straight against his sides.

“Hands behind your back,” Kyle commands him, and William scrambles to do as he’s told, clasping his hands together and shifting again until he’s holding one wrist in on hand, tight and secure against the small of his back. 

It gives Kyle all the control, exactly everything he wants. He presses William into the mattress, his whole weight shifted to wear his chest drags against the sheets. His head is to the side, but his cheek is pressed into the bedding, too, half-muffling his little groans and moans. 

The hold on William’s arms gives him more to work with, too, lets him pull William back into it, angle him however he wants. William goes with it, doesn’t even think to fight against it, eager to please Kyle and do as he likes. Do as he needs. 

“There, Kyle, there,” William eggs him on, fingers clenching and unclenching where he’s so concentrated in keeping position. 

“So fucking good for me,” Kyle groans, folds at his middle until he can rest his forehead on William’s back, never letting up in his thrusts. “Always just what I want, too fucking good.”

William scoffs a little, as much as he can when his breaths are being pumped out of him on every hard thrust inside of him. “Anything for you, always,” he manages, albeit breathless.

It’s soothing, in a weird roundabout way but exactly why they do this. Exactly the thing Kyle needed. It’s like William does exactly what Kyle wants, exactly what he needs, with no hesitation and no complications. And he’s happy to do it, he wants to do it; it benefits him just as much as it does Kyle. Maybe that’s why, maybe it’s refreshing just to have reassurance that _ something _ in his life goes the way he wants it to. Just because it’s the best way for it to go, just because Kyle read the play correctly. 

In losing himself in this — in losing himself in William — Kyle gets a little bit of that back. Gets a little bit of himself back.

And knowing that? Fuck he could come right now.

In fact, he is pretty close, but he thinks he wants William to come first. Wants to see and feel and prove his effect on someone else. A positive effect, something that works and goes his way for the best of everyone, not just himself.

So Kyle gives up his hold on William’s arms, but quickly rearranges his hands. One easily slides up and rests against William’s throat, pushes back just enough to apply pressure, to let William know he’s there, he’s in control, he’s got him. William shudders around him, whines high and needy and mostly incoherent, past the point of stringing together meaningful words. 

Kyle’s other hand slips under him, gets a solid, big grip on William’s leaking cock where it’s smearing wet streaks against the sheets. He knows how William likes it, knows how to drive him wild. He focuses on the tip, rubs his thumb a little meanly over the head, over the hole, and grins when he feels the spurt of precome that coats his fingers in confirmation. He smears the wetness all over the tip, doesn’t relent in his ministrations. 

William can’t keep quiet, can’t muffle himself, either, not with Kyle’s grip on his throat keeping his head upright. So he keens and whines and begs in half-sentence, unobstructed and all for Kyle to hear. It’s kind of gorgeous, the way William practically mewls for him, putty in his hands. 

It’s the control, the _ power, _ that he has right now, like this. Given to him, entrusted to him. Working for him and not against him. 

“Come for me, baby,” Kyle says, rough in William’s ear. He squeezes gently around William’s neck, then slides his palm over William’s face, up and up until he’s got a hold in his hair, strong enough to yank his head back. He tugs at William’s cock at the same time, keeps tugging even as William begins to let go for him. 

He spills over Kyle’s hand, clenches impossibly tight around him, hot and perfect and nearly unreal. It’s a lot, feeling William come undone in real time, around him. Because of him. It’s all Kyle needs, shoving into him all through it, erratic, chasing his own.

He buries himself deep, feels his balls slap loud against the plentiful curve of William’s ass. He lets go, lets the feeling wash over him completely. Lets himself have the out of body experience as he spills into William, fills him up and gets his insides just as messy as he is out. 

William whimpers, and that’s what pulls Kyle back into it, sharpens his focus and throws the breath and the reality of it all back into him. 

“Hey, hey,” Kyle says, soothing, as he carefully pulls out. He turns William over with delicate hands, makes sure he’s comfortable before he runs to the bathroom to grab a towel. William is right where he left him when he comes back, chest heaving up and down as he catches his breath. He’s got an arm thrown over his eyes, his hair splayed around his head, damp from sweat. 

“Mm, Kyle,” is all William manages to string together, turning towards him just a little. He’s smiling a little, soft and warm, basking in the afterglow like it’s summer sun and he’s soaking in his tan. Kyle grins, mildly endeared and maybe a lot of fond. 

“Lemme clean you up,” Kyle hums, already parting William’s thighs, as gently as he can.

William lets him, but as soon as he deems it good enough, he hooks an ankle around Kyle’s thigh, uses the leverage, albeit awkward, to pull Kyle in closer. “C’mon,” he murmurs into the pillow. “C’mere.”

Kyle gives him one last swipe with the towel, but obliges, leaves it on the floor as he climbs into bed and crawls under the covers where William holds them open for him. As soon as he’s in reach, William grabs for him, isn’t shy to wrap both his arms and legs around him, pulling him in until he can tuck his face into the crook of Kyle’s neck.

He feels William leave a little kiss, small and chaste and barely noticeable, on his skin. He hums, then inhales deep, content to take in as much of William as he can.

It’s grounding, it’s good. It’s exactly what he needs, where he needs to be.

Sleep comes easy like this, and Kyle knows it’s a blessing.

~

Kyle wakes up before he’s really rested, but he’s got the urge to take a piss so he barely spares a glance at the red 4:00AM on the clock and rolls out from under the covers, still mostly asleep.

“Hey,” says William when he comes back, lit only by the light of his cell phone. He’s sat up now, but Kyle doesn’t think he was before. He looks like he’s been up, maybe not for too long, but longer than Kyle.

“Oh,” Kyle says, blinking. Then he’s moving again, going back under the blanket, back to the warmth. “Morning.”

“How are you feeling?” William says, cautious. He’s testing the water, the question more loaded than it seems.

Kyle considers for a second, mind still going slow, not quite completely online yet. But. “Still stressed but probably not as stressed as I could be,” he breathes out through his nose with a little huff, then corrects himself. “Than I _ would _ have been.”

William clicks his phone screen off and Kyle’s eyes have to adjust for a second. He still sees the outline of him, the details slowly coming into focus one by one. He swipes a had through his hair, resettles where he’s leaned up against the headboard. It scoots him a little closer, and Kyle is ready when William gets his hand in his hair, coaxes his head into his lap. 

He’s solid and warm and he’s gentle with his hands as he massages Kyle’s scalp. They don’t say anything for a minute, despite how loud they’re both thinking. It’s enough to stop and just savor their combined presence, just for a minute. Just long enough for the tightness in Kyle’s chest to unwind, enough for him to relax for William.

“You’ve done good,” William says first, “You’re _ doing _ good.”

Kyle appreciates it, but. “‘Good’ is really subjective, Will.”

“Oh come on,” William says, but it’s not actually heated. He rubs at a knot at the nape of Kyle’s neck, patient. “You do everything you can to protect _ us, _ even in this mess. And that means everything. You know that, right?”

William doesn’t have to specify who “us” is. Kyle knows exactly what he means, thinks back on his carefully thought out soundbites, the ones that still come back to bite him in the ass in one way or another. He’s here to lead the organization as a whole, but he’d be damned if that didn’t mean prioritizing his players. William knows that. William won’t let him forget how much he thinks about it.

“There are no peaks without troughs,” William says like he’s reading it from a book. He peers down at Kyle then, chances a look. “Someone smart told me that once.”

“Hm,” Kyle remembers that day, remembers when William had come back and was stuck up in his head when nothing seemed to bounce his way. 

“Yup,” William pops the ‘p’ with a little smile at the corner of his lip. “And I had to look up what troughs are. Rude of you to assume the extent of my math knowledge.”

Kyle laughs then, doesn’t expect it but it comes out, light and real and full. It feels good in his chest, feels good in his head. Maybe it’s not so bad.

“This was your dream, you’re living in it. And I know that you of all people won’t let it go.” William sounds so sure and it hits Kyle, then. How much William believes in him. How much someone else can see this mess, be right in the middle of it, even, and still believe in him.

William must sense it, must feel the shift in his mood, because he tousles Kyle’s hair into even more of a mess than his original bedhead. He takes Kyle’s cheeks in his hands and angles him just right, until he can lean down and kiss him nearly upside down.

“I love you,” William whispers against his lips. “And I know you can make it through this.”

“Thanks. Really.” Kyle sighs into it, lets himself melt into William’s warmth, both physical and not. “I love you, too.”

.

**Author's Note:**

> Kyle is so full of complex emotions, stay strong bud


End file.
